All That Was Forgotten
by darenotdare
Summary: What happens when a past long buried is unearthed once again?
1. Arrival

**A/N - Wow, it's been so, so, long since I've written. After waffling for hours about whether or not to actually publish, this is me posting chapter one before I lose my nerve! Guess we'll see where this goes. Trying to set things up for down the road - hopefully some people will come along for the ride.**

Outdoor magazine in hand, Imogen wandered the now quiet halls of the school. It always surprised her just how empty the castle seemed without the hustle and bustle that accompanied the young witches who populated the school. After a long semester, it was nice to get a brief reprieve.

She made her way to the staff room and situated herself at the small table. She had barely finished the first article when the door cracked open and Amelia made her way inside. Imogen looked up, giving a smile to the Headmistress.

"About ready to head out, are you?" she inquired, laying the magazine down on the table. Amelia nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes, all packed up. You'll be quite alright, yes? It's not often you stay here over the holidays," Amelia leaned a hand against the table as she looked down upon Imogen.

"Oh don't worry about me. Erin will be here by dinner and she's quite eager to take in the sights and sounds of castle life," Imogen smirked.

"Ah yes, this friend of yours," came the voice from nowhere, succeeding once again at startling Imogen and causing her to jump in her seat. She shook her head and gave a slight huff; she would never be used to Constance Hardbroom and her apparitions from nowhere.

Constance gave a look to both women before casting her eyes to Amelia. "Really Miss Cackle; allowing Miss Drill to make a spectacle of the school over the holidays. Evidently we now moonlight as a roadside exhibit, do we?"

Imogen rolled her eyes, this line of conversation now well trodden and still not buried. "As I've indicated, many, many times before, Erin is intrigued by the concept of the school and looks forward to seeing it."

"I'm sure she looks forward to seeing monkeys in their cages at your zoos as well," Constance replied, her lips in a thin line.

Amelia eyed both women with a sigh of resignation. This argument had been going on for weeks now and seemed would not reach an end. "Well then, it's right about time for me to be on my way. Constance, do try and enjoy the break."

"Indeed, Miss Cackle. I have many plans -"

"-To hide yourself away in the potions lab?" Imogen finished with a laugh, receiving a glare from Constance in return.

Amelia sighed audibly. The pair's bickering was exhausting, and by end of term she had had quite enough of it. "Very well, you two." she shook her head, opening her mouth to say something else before thinking better of it. "We'll see you again in a few weeks now." with that, Amelia exited the room and made her way outside. As she mounted her broom she shook her head a final time at her coworkers. The break was quite perfectly timed indeed.

With a glaring eye up to the sun, now high in the sky and leaving sweltering heat in its wake, Erin slammed the tailgate of the truck up to close it. She surveyed the equipment packed into the back and, satisfied, began tying the loose objects down. As her task neared completion she felt the buzz of her phone in her pocket and she pulled it out to take a look. Erin smiled when she saw who the text was from.

Erin had been beyond excited when she had been asked to do field research and even more so when she had learned the project would take her overseas. The icing on the cake had been the sheer luck landing her mere hours away from a close friend she hadn't seen in many years.

Satisfied everything was secure in the back, Erin escaped the heat of the sun and sought refuge in the bed of the beater of a truck she had been loaned. Focusing her attention back to her phone, she hit send and waited for a voice on the other end.

"Erin?" hearing her name made her smile and she nodded in the affirmative even though the person on the other end certainly could not see her.

"Im! It's so great to finally hear your voice! Actually, it's pretty great to hear any voice; I think the closest thing to company I've had in the last few weeks is a mouse that tried to sneak into my tent," she shrugged. "How's things?!" Erin turned the key in the truck and rolled her eyes as the engine groaned.

"They're good! The girls have all left for the holidays; things are finally quiet." Imogen looked up into the sky, where not that long before young witches had dotted the air. "So you're all finished up then?"

"Yeah, just got out of the bush this morning. I'm taking equipment back to the lab and then I'm on my way. I can't wait to see this school of yours," Erin shook her head. "Still can't believe you're holed up in a castle hidden in the country. If you're taking me for a ride, I'm going to be so beyond annoyed."

Imogen rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's always been my dream to send you on a wild goose chase scampering merrily in meadows. So you'll be in by dinner then?"

Erin pushed the truck down into drive and rolled out onto the gravel road. "Should be, yeah. Hour or so to the lab, grab a shower, couple more hours on the road. Looking forward to this; it's been ages."

"It has. I'll see you then, then. Get your eyes on the road - they have laws against distracted driving you know." Erin laughed.

"You're right, mom - I might hit a tumbleweed sneaking out of the bush." she smirked. "See you in a few." with that, Erin ended the call, tossing the phone onto the seat beside her. Left with nothing to do but drive, she reached over to turn up the old truck's radio, hoping she might get lucky and get actual music this time around.

It took Erin just over an hour to make her way back into the city and another hour to unpack everything she had to. A thirdhour was spent scraping a month's worth of grime from underneath her fingernails and making herself vaguely presentable. Packing for her trip up to see Imogen took her the least amount of her time - a hoodie here, some shirts there. She tossed everything into a well used duffel bag, which she then threw over the side of the truck where it clanged on the dented metal bottom.

The drive back out of the city was pleasant; Erin was for the most part alone on the roads, taking in the pristine countryside views. Sometimes she wondered why she had ever left.

"Life gets in the way sometimes," she muttered aloud, before turning the truck off the highway, having finally found the exit. It wasn't much long after that she pulled up to tall metal gates. Killing the engine, Erin stared beyond the gates to the structure inside. Stone, turrets...Imogen hadn't been kidding.

Constance gazed out the window from the staff room, her brow furrowing at the sight of the old white truck coming up the drive. "Your friend seems to have arrived," she stated plainly, as Imogen looked up from her magazine. "In what appears to be the finest of rusty wagons."

Imogen rolled her eyes. "I didn't take you for a vehicle aficionado." she replied, before exiting the staff room and making her way outside. She arrived at the gates and placed her hands on the bars, catching the eyes of a familiar face.

"No solicitors, be on your way," she called out, bringing a smirk to Erin's face.

"But I come bearing only the finest of spirits!" she reached into the back of the truck and pulled out a case of beer, accentuating her point with a shake that clinked the glass bottles together. "Come, let us drink and be merry, fair maiden of the castle!"

Imogen laughed as she pulled the gates open, hinges creaking as she did so. "Well, when you put it that way -" her words were cut off as Erin flung herself towards Imogen and wrapped her in a solid bear hug.

"You never could turn down a good bevvy," Erin remarked, before moving from a hug to an arm around Imogen's shoulders. "This place looks fantastic. What a trip,"

"So glad we meet your standards for entertainment." Constance's voice hung ghostly in the air and Erin raised an eyebrow before jumping back at the sight of a woman appearing before her eyes. The case in her hands dropped from her fingers, clinging as the glass hit the soft ground.

The two women eyed each other. Erin blinked several times in quick succession, still not quite having processed what had just happened. It was one thing for Imogen to have mentioned she worked at a witches school; it was quite another to see evidence of just what that meant.

"Will your gawking perhaps cease shortly?" Constance inquired, crossing her arms at her chest. The cross question seemed to pull Erin out of her shock and she gave a smile to the newly appeared stranger.

"Sorry about that; I've never been good with surprises," she shrugged a little. "I've always figured I had a run in with a jack-in-the-box way back when and never quite recovered." she held a hand out. "Erin Evans. And you are?"

Constance regarded the hand held out to her but did not take it, instead letting her eyes appraise this friend of Imogen's. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, although loose hairs framed her face. She was taller than the gym teacher, but several inches shorter than Constance herself. Similar to Imogen, it was obvious she was athletic, musculature evident through the silhouette of her clothing. She was dressed most casually in a pair of faded jeans and a red raglan shirt with white sleeves, and Constance looked down at a pair of black flip flops with disdain.

"Deputy Headmistress Hardroom," Constance replied, still having not taken the offered hand. Erin let it down with a shrug and dropped down to one knee instead, inspecting the fallen case of beer. The bottles all appeared intact.

"Well Deputy Headmistress Hardbroom, I have good news!" Erin returned to standing. "Not a single bottle broken! We really should celebrate." her eyes wandered back to Imogen, who had been taking in the banter between the pair, and Erin wrapped an arm around Imogen's shoulders once more. "You'll join us for a drink, yeah?"

The eye roll came quickly, followed by a click of the tongue to emphasize it. Ignoring the question, she instead addressed Imogen. "Do try to remember this is a house of learning, not a den of iniquity." Before either could reply, Constance had disappeared.

"Iniquity? I was anticipating a chill night catching up," Erin said with a laugh. "I would definitely settle for iniquity...but only if I can get her involved." Imogen's eyes widened, and she gave Erin's a shoulder a shove.

"You do realize I have to work with her on a daily basis?"

"Well yeah," Erin replied with a nod. "Looks and personality. I dig it."

"You're terrible."

"Some things never change," as Erin spoke, she put a hand on the gate, swinging herself inside to the grounds. As she crossed the threshold, a strange feeling came over her. A tingling sensation reverberated through her limbs and she lost her hold on the gate, instead finding herself stumbling and awkwardly falling to both knees. A sharp pain raced through her her head, and she brought her hands up involuntarily to grab at her temples. As quickly as it came on, it was gone.

"...the hell?!" Imogen exclaimed, bridging the distance between the two of them. As she reached down to help her friend, Erin began trying to stand. "What's gotten into you?" Imogen inquired, concern plain in her voice.

Erin shook her head, taking Imogen's hand as she clambered back to her feet. "I'm good. I'm good." she replied, closing her eyes and re-opening them slowly, clearing her head. "I must have gotten too much sun over the last few or something." she shrugged. "I'm fine, I promise." she looked down at the ground where the case of beer once again lay and pursed her lips. "You think lightning strikes twice and they've all still survived?"

Imogen reached down for the cardboard case, now looking a little worse for wear. "I think this was why we used to buy cans…" she remarked, shaking the bottles together and listening for the sounds of broken glass.

"We're older and wiser now. I may not be able to walk through a gate, but dammit, I can drink an adult beverage from the finest of glass canisters." she cast a glance up to the castle. "Lead the way, fair maiden of Castle Overblow. We must safely deposit our fragile cargo in your chambers, before responsibly drinking them in a fashion befitting an establishment of learning." the pair began walking towards the castle.

"I seem to recall you having some rather loose interpretations of what befit an establishment of learning. I'm currently having visions of Constance Hardbroom scolding the pair of us later this evening as if we were first years out of bed after lights out." They reached the doors of the castle, which Imogen opened, ushering her friend inside.

"I'm a 'responsible adult' now Im," Erin replied, her hands making air quotes as she spoke. "I'm sure everything will be entirely uneventful."


	2. Uneventful

**A/N - I'm trying to get somewhere, and hopefully I'm inching my way there in some measure of an interesting/intriguing way. Trying to get a bit of a feel for the characters before I get this party started. On with the show.**

"That was one time!" Erin exclaimed in a fit of laughter, shaking her head. She held up a finger. "One, I won that bet," two fingers went up. "And two, I aced that exam."

Imogen rolled her eyes. "It was ridiculous. To this day I cannot believe you took a chemistry midterm dressed in a banana costume. If one of the girls did that in Miss Hardbroom's potions class…" she shook her head. "I've never understood how you can be so -" she struggled to find the right word.

Erin laughed. "Ridiculous? Not the first and not the last time I'll hear that." she shrugged. "There's less pressure when no one expects you to be anything. Sometimes it's nice to be underestimated. And sometimes it's just nice to not have to live up to other people's lofty expectations. Undersell, overdeliver. Gotta keep people guessing."

"Truly words to live by, Erin." Imogen replied. "You should write a book."

"Yes, I can see it now. Obnoxious, Ridiculous and Vaguely Intelligent: The Erin Evans Story."

Before their banter could continue, the attention of the pair was pulled away by a piercingly loud alarm above their heads. Startled, Erin's attention switched to the pot on the stove she had been meant to be watching which was now emitting a not insignificant plume of smoke. She quickly pulled the lid off and whipped the pot off the heat, giving a guilty look as she peered inside.

"Tell me you didn't just burn pasta," Imogen grumbled, giving her head a shake.

"Chapter one: I didn't just burn pasta...except maybe I kind of did," Erin replied as she poked the bottom with a fork, prying several noodles loose from the mess at the bottom. She held them up. "These ones are still good…" she dropped the clumpy mess in her mouth. "Oh yeah, super delicious. Tastes like disaster."

Imogen shook her head and pointed to the still blaring alarm. "Could you at least deal with that?" As Imogen tossed a towel at her friend, it instead hit an appearing Constance, who looked none too pleased.

"Is it truly required that I supervise the actions of what I had been led to believe are two adults?" Constance inquired before pointing her spellcasting fingers at the alarm, zapping it into silence.

Erin watched the magic unfold before her eyes. It was strange; while the action should have surprised her, it instead seemed oddly familiar. She remained in a quiet contemplation about that as Constance's gaze darted back and forth between the two women.

"Well?" she huffed, an eyebrow raised to Imogen as she held the towel at arm's length before she dropped it unceremoniously on the counter.

"It's a smoke alarm, Constance. These things do happen," Imogen moved to the pot Erin had been trying to salvage, and shook her head. "We are evidently not eating this tonight."

"There wasn't enough for three anyways," Erin finally replied, garnering an eye roll from Imogen.

"Really?" she hissed under her breath. Erin pretended not to heave heard and turned herself to face Constance.

"Now that you're here, you really should join us. I'm sorry about the alarm. I've been eating mostly trail mix and tinned meat for the last few weeks, and I'm obviously out of practice when it comes to making real food."

"Another nature guide?" Constance queried. "Truly this is far more of a noble profession than I had understood, given the number of them you know, Miss Drill." Erin gave a curious look to Imogen.

"I'm a nature guide?" she looked back to Constance questioningly before finally cluing in to what she was referring to. "Ohhh. Serge," she looked at Imogen and smirked. "Your little rocky mountain ranger!" she winked before shifting her gaze back to Constance.

"He can face all kinds of dangers," Erin grinned, laughing at her own joke - one which had successfully managed to cause both women to shoot daggers at her. "Not me though. I've spent the last three weeks studying the glamorous world of tree bark. My biggest risk has been splinters." she shrugged lightly. "Chapter two: Foliage - the Final Frontier."

Constance glared at Erin, one hand on her hip. "I am entirely uncertain what, exactly, you are rambling about, but I beg of you not to repeat it." Breaking the tension with humor was evidently not a most successful strategy, Erin noted to herself.

"Seriously though, why don't you join us for a drink? It's the first night of holidays - I'm sure you deserve the break. And I would really love to hear more about your work here. Not in a weird - oh wow, give me a magic show kind of way. I'm genuinely curious about the similarities and differences between your kind of research, and my own."

The scoff from Constance was audible, causing Imogen to interject. "Erin is finishing a doctorate in biochemistry," she elaborated. "It would be interesting to see if there's any overlap."

"Finished, actually. All that's left is walking across the stage, really." Erin blushed as she spoke, never having particularly enjoyed discussing her own accomplishments. "Im's right though; you teach potions, yes? It would be neat to see where the disciplines intersect.

"Potions are not 'neat', Miss Evans." Constance shook her head. "And I'm sure the similarities are minimal at best,"

Erin pursed her lips slightly. "I mean, to be fair here - plants are plants. Science is science. I think it would make an interesting conversation, but if you're too busy, I get it." Behind her, a laugh accidentally escaped Imogen's throat which caused Constance's attention to turn to her.

"And just what is amusing to you here, Miss Drill?" Imogen raised her hands slightly, as if professing innocence. The reality that Constance was likely incredibly busy with something that in no way needed to be completed on the first night of a holiday break coupled with her friend's failing attempts to engage her rather...difficult coworker had really just struck her as comical.

With a slight huff, Constance shook her head and brushed by Erin on her way to the stovetop. Her pathway to the teapot that sat there became slightly more complicated as the slight contact between the pair caused Erin to wince, letting out a slight grunt of pain. For the second time in far too short a period of time, Erin felt her legs go weak and her hands reach up to clutch her temples. This time, flashes of pictures came crashing through her mind. They came fast and furious, so many that she struggled to hang on to any of them. She tried valiantly to capture even one of the images, coming away with one of what seemed to be herself, much younger, and sitting in a classroom she didn't recognize.

"Transmogrification?" she muttered questioningly, rubbing her forehead, eyes still closed. "What….?" Erin tried to stand back up and stumbled, her hands falling on Constance's arms, something that only served to startle her again. Imogen reached forward to steady her evidently not-quite-right friend.

"Did you -" Imogen began to inquire, before quickly being cut off by the potions mistress.

"No, I did not anything, Miss Drill. I am unsure what either of you has been playing at, but I am not entertained by your games."

"Neither of us is playing at anything, Miss Hardbroom," Imogen responded somewhat angrily. "Do you not find any of this strange?"

"Honestly Miss Drill, I have found the entirety of my interactions with the pair of you to have been most strange. With respect to this particular situation, may I suggest that your friend Miss Evans here learn to better manage her faculties, or at the very least, her imbibing of alcoholic beverages." Constance shook her head, casting a judgemental glance at what she assumed to be a highly inebriated Erin, still rubbing her eyes and leaning rather heavily onto Imogen.

"Inappropriate indeed." Teapot forgotten, Constance appraised the situation a final time, giving a look of disdain to the pair before disappearing. Imogen had brought this particular problem upon herself, and she could endeavor to solve it as well.

Left alone once again, Erin looked at Imogen through half squinting eyes, still fighting a rather significant headache. "I've barely had anything to drink, Im." Erin spoke softly, feeling very much out of sorts. Imogen cast a glance to the table, which confirmed Erin's assertion. They had each opened only one bottle of beer, and her friend's sat still at least halfway full.

"I'm really sorry Im. I don't know what's wrong with me," Erin frowned, trying to at the very least take slightly more of her own weight and stand under her own power. She succeeded, somewhat, being able to instead move to being half supported by a single arm around Imogen.

"I think we are taking a rain cheque on those adult beverages," she replied, and Erin nodded. "Do you think you can make the stairs? It's looking like I'm going to need to put you to bed." With that, the pair started slowly making their way out of the kitchens and back up to the main level.

"Well, that went impressively well," Erin mused, pulling her legs up into her chest where she sat on the bed. "How glad are you that I came to visit?"

"Still pretty glad," Imogen replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Are you feeling ok now?" it was Erin's turn to shrug.

"I think so. I'm hoping it's like most things in life - made better by sleeping it off." she laughed, rolling herself back to prone before laying out flat. "Another thing I thought I'd outgrown. Chapter three: Everything Old is New Again."

"I'm starting to regret this book suggestion you know."

"That's too bad, because I think chapter four was supposed to be Erin Hates Running But Does It Anyways to Make Imogen Happy," she smirked. If the book deal's canceled does that mean I don't have to run 15k tomorrow?"

"Oh no, that chapter is definitely still getting written. You're going to have to do more than faint twice to get out of that. Better get your beauty sleep."

Erin awoke with a start, biting back a cry of pain as she did so. A prolonged sense of dread loomed heavily over her, heart beating so hard it felt as though it may escape from her chest. She rubbed her hands carefully over her shoulder blades, certain she would find scrapes and raw skin. It had been so real – too real. Beyond a dream and more like a memory, but certainly not one that she could actually recall. It was strange and uncomfortable, and she scanned the room cautiously, certain something would sneak from the shadows.

Finally she remembered where she was – that she was not alone – and swore under her breath. Had she awoken Imogen? That was all she needed; to awaken her friend and be faced with a stream of questions she had no answers to. Erin exhaled swiftly as she heard soft snores from Imogen, thankful that she remained the sound sleeper she remembered.

Erin threw her feet over the edge of the bed, shivering slightly as bare feet hit cold stone. Shaking her head, she stood and stared back down at where she had lain. She couldn't sleep; her nightmares were far too fresh in her mind. No, she needed to be out of this room. She needed air, to somehow clear her entirely scrambled mind.

Carefully pulling the door open Erin slipped outside, the door making the faintest of sounds as she closed it tight. Now what? Where would she even go in this school she knew nothing of? Feet leading her in directions she hoped she remembered for when she finally returned, she wandered aimlessly, finally finding herself inside a classroom.

The room seemed both foreign and familiar. That it felt familiar at all made no sense to her; certainly she had been in a classroom before, but not one like this. Not one inside an old castle, certainly not one with the cauldrons she found her fingers tracing. It seemed so much like something she had done before and Erin once again found herself shaking her head, angry and confused.

"What is happening with me?" Erin muttered aloud, wandering her way to the front of the classroom. Drawn to the blackboard, she stood in front of it and appraised what was written. It seemed as though Constance was working on some personal projects over the holidays. Erin smiled a little bit; even the woman's penmanship was upright and proper.

A hand held over her chin as she took everything in, Erin stopped on one particular line. After reading it over several times, she couldn't help herself. A hand reached out, erasing the first and third segments of the equation, before she picked up a small piece of chalk, turning it over carefully in her hands. Eyeing the board a final time, Erin closed her eyes and gave a nod of affirmation. Blocky capital letters replaced the calligraphic lettering from before, making for a stark and obvious contrast. As she dropped the chalk back into its cradle, Erin pursed her lips slightly. She had absolutely no business dabbling in this work - least of all the work of a woman who very much would not appreciate the intrusion - but she could not shake a feeling that what she had written was right.

Out the classroom window, Erin could see the sun just beginning to crest the horizon. Not wanting to have to answer questions about her whereabouts, she quickly darted out of the classroom, padding lightly through the hallways as she endeavored to retrace her steps. When she slid through the door to Imogen's quarters, Erin let out a slight sigh of relief that she'd made it back undisturbed. It didn't even look as though Imogen had moved, let alone noticed her departure.

Erin lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The idea of closing her eyes was not particularly appealing but she chanced it anyways, holding out an unrealistic hope that this time things would be different.


	3. Feet Sometimes on Solid Ground

**A/N - Still inching my way towards somewhere. This one snuck away from me a little and wound up being more characterization and history and less advancement in the present. Hopefully it's still enjoyable!**

 **Fun (maybe) yet entirely frivolous fact: Feet Sometimes on Solid Ground is from the song Survive by Rise Against.**

* * *

"You sure you're still up for this?" Imogen asked, still lying in bed. She turned onto her side to face Erin, regarding her carefully. While they had previously agreed to go running, last night's events had worried her, to say the least.

Erin rubbed her face before propping herself up on her elbows. She had drifted in and out of restless sleep since her return to the room. Her mind was working overtime endeavoring to process the many ways in which she seemed to be losing a handle on herself since arriving at the castle.

"I'm thinking the run will do me good," she replied, bringing her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed. "Sunshine, fresh air...that terrible burning feeling in my lungs. Can't think of anything better."

'Getting out of the castle will also delay the inevitable a little while longer', Erin thought to herself as she dropped her feet to the cold floor. It didn't take a particularly perceptive person to realize that she had most definitely kicked a proverbial hornet's nest in Constance Hardbroom's potions laboratory. Postponing the fallout from that particular lapse in judgement versus having to run - a pastime she engaged in but didn't particularly adore - was a trade she would take happily on this day.

The pair dressed quickly and prepared their things for the day. As they headed outside and into the courtyard, Erin pulled her truck keys from the side pocket of her small backpack and tossed them towards Imogen.

"Better safe than sorry eh? I think I'll take my chances with you at the wheel today," Erin smirked. "Hopefully I don't live to regret it." Imogen gave her a playful shove in return.

"If you will recall, I am an excellent driver." the snicker escaped Erin's lips almost immediately.

"Are you forgetting the bunny incident on that roadie we took to the mountains?" Imogen raised a finger to cut Erin off.

"I saved that poor animal from certain death." she pulled the door of the truck open and slid inside. "Besides, it only took you twenty minutes to push us out of the ditch." The pair laughed at the memory and Erin situated herself in the passenger seat and quickly rolled down her window as Imogen put the vehicle in gear. The wind began to pull strands of hair loose from Erin's ponytail and she inhaled deeply, problems momentarily forgotten. The pair drove in comfortable silence back towards the village and out onto the highway.

* * *

About halfway into their travel, Erin couldn't hold her tongue any longer. "I fixed an equation on the blackboard," she mumbled, eyes still following the landscape whizzing by quickly as they sped along the highway.

Imogen's brows furrowed. What an odd thing to say. "You what?"

"An equation, on the blackboard." Erin rubbed the meat of her palm roughly against her forehead, half covering her eyes. "Amounts and ingredients for a potion. They were wrong...well, not wrong per say. But, there was a better option, so I changed them."

Imogen processed the words slowly, trying to figure out how best to pull the entire story out of the woman sitting beside her. "A potion. So this was...last night? At the school?" Erin gave the barest of nods. "In Miss Hardbroom's classroom?" another nod. Imogen made a face.

"You made changes to something Constance Hardbroom is working on in her lab?" Imogen opened her mouth to continue, incredulous. Of all the things to decide to do, messing with the potions mistress' work could not possibly have been seen as an intelligent idea. Before she could continue, Erin cut in.

"I told you, it wasn't right. I couldn't just leave it there like that," she said matter-of-factly, as if anything in the situation was at all normal.

"And you know this how?! You walked through the gates of the Academy and became an expert through osmosis? Come on now. You do realize how invested that woman is in her work, yes? That was something that had to have come across even in your briefest of encounters. When she notices what you've done, she's going to lose her mind."

Erin crossed her arms, slumping down into the worn seat. "If she follows what I changed, that potion she's working on will take half as long to take effect," she instantly felt ridiculous as the words left her mouth, but she was so certain it was true. She didn't know how, or why, but it was plain as day to her in her mind.

"Erin Evans. Stop it. Just," Imogen sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Stop. I can't even figure what it is that you're playing at, but I need you to give it a rest. What has even gotten into you? I've known you to do a lot of things, but disrespecting someone else's work is a new one." she shook her head. "Is it a jealousy thing?"

It was Erin's turn to look incredulous as she shifted in her seat, staring at Imogen. "Jealous? Of what?!"

Imogen shrugged slightly. "She can do things that you can't. I've been there...it can be rather staggering to see what they can do." Erin's eyes narrowed as she willed this line of conversation to end.

"Im. I am not some slack-jawed and starstruck imbecile. I am certainly not jealous. I don't particularly understand what is going on in my head right now, but I will absolutely guarantee you that what I'm saying is true. When I come up with a vaguely plausible explanation, I will gladly let you know." she went back to staring out the window. "Can we just drop it? I shouldn't have said anything."

"Forget said anything - you really shouldn't have done anything." Imogen shook her head again, now dreading their inevitable return to the castle. She had already endured Constance Hardbroom's many comments about allowing her visiting friend to stay with her at the castle over the holidays, and this would certainly not improve matters. She could practically feel the icy glare and hear the condescending tones from the deputy headmistress already.

* * *

The pair drove the remainder of the way in silence, finally arriving at the nature reserve. The trail Imogen had picked out was long, and judging from the sight in front of them, mostly uphill. "The view from the top is breathtaking," Imogen stated, dropping her feet to the ground below as she hopped from the truck. Erin grimaced slightly. While she ran quite frequently, unlike her friend, it felt more like a job than a pleasurable activity.

"15k uphill?" she bent to tie her shoelaces. "I'm expecting unicorns and fireworks, or else I'll be sorely disappointed," the pair readied their supplies before beginning to amble towards the trailhead. Erin let Imogen set their pace, settling in behind the blond. Feet hit soft ground, arms swinging lazily as they began to chip away at distance.

As they moved, Erin felt the familiar burn in her lungs and focused on her breathing. It had been Imogen, all those years ago, that had encouraged her to pursue the unforgiving pastime that unlike many things, did not at all come naturally to her.

* * *

 _ **"What the hell is the point of running if I'm not being chased?" Erin asked Imogen incredulously when she suggested the pastime. Running with a purpose, that was one thing. Running for its own sake though? Where was the adrenaline, the excitement, the fight? What would be the point? Every step would just reaffirm how useless she was; the piece of her that was now gone.**_

 _ **"And your plan is...what, exactly, then?" Imogen replied plainly. "You can't just keep sitting here miserable. You certainly can't keep lashing out and throwing things," she pointed to the textbook Erin had thrown across the room in volatile anger and shook her head. "You need to figure this out. I'm not even going to pretend to know what rugby meant to you, and how much it hurt you to be forced to walk away. But you have so much more going for you...and it's heart-wrenching to watch you throw it away."**_

 _ **Erin squeezed her eyes shut, the memories of that day coming back to her. The grab at her legs, her face hitting the hard ground, the blood exploding from her nose as cartilage crushed into the grass. The ominous blackness and lost time before a teammate's yells had begun to make their way through her foggy brain. It was only on the fourth cry of "Evans" that the noise no longer felt a million miles away and she had pushed herself to her knees. A hand to her face, Erin had caught a handful of crimson and had watched it pool with fascination.**_

 _ **Pulled to her feet, she only vaguely remembered even getting to the sidelines. There, she had managed to return enough sense to her foggy brain to put on an impressive act of normalcy. The trainer had staunched the bleeding with swaths of cotton jammed into each nostril. Erin had not even winced when they had been put in place; her focus had been solely on convincing them to put her back in the game. She had ignored the increasing pressure in her head, and similarly the growing feeling of being stabbed repeatedly through her eyes as her brain voiced its displeasure for having been unceremoniously disturbed as face had met grass. She had to finish what she had started.**_

 _ **Thirty minutes later Erin had worked extra hard to maintain her balance as bodies crashed into her, arms raised in celebration. It was over. Having convinced the training staff to return her to the field, she had scored again. They had won. In pictures she barely remembered being taken, she was smiling, celebrating. She'd had a job to do and she had finished it, whatever it took. Failure was not an option; failure was unacceptable.**_

 _ **The days that followed had been agonizing. Erin could barely stand any light at all, the stimulation causing her head to explode with pain. The smallest of movements left her dizzy; she had vomited more times than she could count. It was weeks before she could return to classes, and even then, the simple act of walking to campus and sitting in a lecture hall would leave her exhausted. She wasn't able to enter a chemistry lab at all, the smells triggering nausea and migraines. Her semester had been in ruins - projects not completed, exams postponed. Erin tried in vain to will herself better, but to no avail. Never could she remember a time where she wasn't able to grind through something; to simply put her head down, do work, and persevere. The very notion of it infuriated her.**_

 _ **Improvements came painfully slowly, though as the end of term neared Erin had very nearly returned to normal. The setbacks had been frequent, however, and all-too-often self inflicted as she tried to push through everything she had fallen behind in doing. The worst though, had been yet to come.**_

 _ **She remembered the feel of the scratchy gown against her skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable as she lay in wait. The grinding sound the bed made as it moved her forward into the MRI. How she had closed her eyes tightly as she was enveloped in the tiny space, reminding her every second for twenty agonizing minutes just how much she hated being in any enclosed space. 1200 seconds of misery, and still worse was to come.**_

 _ **When the doctor assigned to student athletes had sat her down, his face had been a forced blank canvas, that practiced look of someone who tries to give nothing away. That very face had raised suspicion within Erin, but she had waited out his silence with calculating stare of her own. Then the words had left his mouth - words that failed to register the first time they were spoken. Erin could not remember a time when she had failed at anything before, and yet here she was, failing to be better. She was weak. She was flawed. Her body had failed her. She would never play again.**_

 _ **She had been a picture of calm when she had thanked him, betraying nothing of the turmoil that roiled inside her. The reaction had surprised the doctor, and he had looked upon her with skepticism, asking if he could call anyone, if someone would give her a ride home. Erin had shaken her head, spoken with a fake smile on her face, stating that she would be fine, that everything was fine.**_

 _ **Erin had walked home, decidedly not fine. She felt failure tinging her every move, a dark cloud she could not escape. Angry tears had stung as they rolled down her cheeks, only serving to enrage her more.**_

 _ **Time was not healing this wound. She was at a loss in terms of what to do with her emotions; she threw herself into her work hoping some measure of success there would counteract her failing elsewhere. She pushed herself, hard, anger and rage consuming her each time the twinges of returning headaches made her slow down. She loathed how out of control she felt. Power was everything, and she had none.**_

 _ **The memory faded and Erin slowly opened her eyes, gazing up at Imogen, who was still looking upon her with concern. Since her injury, she had become far more introverted. She had cut ties with all of her rugby teammates - seeing them only reminded her of what she had lost. She had begrudgingly done group projects when absolutely mandatory, communicating as little as required with her partners while burying herself in work, accepting nothing but perfection. It was in fact the very reason she had applied to go on exchange and complete her third year abroad - Erin had wanted to escape from the pity, the judgement, the knowledge of weakness. Every academic success was another small grain of sand on the scales as Erin tried to claw her way out of what she saw as a nearly endless pit that reflected her failings.**_

 _ **Imogen had thrown a lifeline down that pit though. While Erin had originally looked upon her assigned roommate with disdain, with each day they had grown closer. There was something about the blond that pulled Erin's walls down. Not once had Imogen judged her, not once had she done anything but patiently wait for Erin to open up, even slightly. Imogen was different than anyone she had met. At first, it had been a test - Erin had started telling Imogen all the terrible things she felt to be true about herself, expecting the other woman to at the very least judge her, and at the very most, walk away. She had done neither. She had listened. She had shown compassion, empathy.**_

 _ **"Erin. I adore you, but if you keep this up I guarantee you will push everyone - including me - away."**_

 _ **There were very few people Erin had cared about losing, but Imogen had made that short list. They ran together the next day, and the one after that. Day by day and inch by inch, Erin started to unpack what seemed to be an infinite mess of emotion and pain.**_

 _ **As feet pounded pavement, dirt and grass, Erin slowly began to see things more clearly. When she was angry, she ran. When she stress overwhelmed her, she ran. When the voice in her head grew louder, reminding her of each flaw and failure, she ran. As her lungs burned and her legs cramped, her mind cleared. Though she never grew to love what she was doing, Erin began to recognize it as the means to an end that it was. It became easier to forgive her failings - though she never forgot. Her outbursts became fewer and farther between. She invested her energy, and in return, the running helped return her to sanity.**_

 _ **When Erin's time on exchange had come to an end, she had taken the running back overseas with her as well. More than the running, she had taken back what Imogen had given her - friendship and understanding that she had not expected, or truly, known she'd even wanted. Definitely it had been needed. While Erin had expected Imogen to be relieved to be free of such a burdensome presence, the other woman had surprised her yet again, and had maintained their friendship even from a distance.**_

* * *

Over the years, the pair had had at least a thousand heartfelt conversations; conversations that frequently left Erin wondering whether Imogen regretted ever having agreed to rooming with an exchange student. Instead of exposure to a different culture, Imogen had gotten a wild mess of emotions the outside world never really saw. Imogen had been the catalyst for Erin to seize some measure of control over her life. Nothing had come easily, or quickly, and even to this day she would find herself sliding dangerously back to a place and person she no longer wanted to be. It happened less and less frequently, however, and Erin never forgot that it had been Imogen that had set her on this path.

Without Imogen, Erin truly had no idea where she would be, and it was not sitting well with her to know that she, yet again, was a source of problems in Imogen's life.

Just shy of two hours later, the pair found themselves at the top of the mountain, looking out on what was indeed a spectacular view. Imogen situated herself on the rocks overlooking the edge and with a slight smile, encouraged her friend to come join her. Erin gave a soft smile in return as she sat down, slowly replacing it with a frown as she hugged her knees into her chest.

"I don't know what's happening, Im," Erin pushed out, still collecting her breath. "Something strange, but I don't understand it. Like, at all."

Imogen shook her head, her own anger at the situation having faded as they had run. She gave a contemplative shrug. "Maybe Constance will have an idea what it could be. Maybe you're sensitive to magic in some way? I mean, this would be the first time you've been exposed to it; perhaps there's an explanation there."

"Yeah, maybe…"

"I still can't believe you've gone and edited her work. What were you even thinking?" Imogen couldn't help but laugh as she thought of the perfectionist potions mistress. "I'm honestly amazed she didn't detect some disturbance in the force and appear immediately to tear your head off." in spite of herself, Imogen was full out laughing now. "She's going to be well and truly furious you know?" Erin nodded before replying.

"Yes, you've mentioned it a couple times now. I think I've picked up on the vibe. I'll handle it though - this won't be yet another thing I saddle you with, I swear." there was half a frown on her face as Erin tried to find the words she needed. "You're always picking up my pieces."

"You've been there for me too, ok?" Imogen replied firmly. "No more of this one-way, poor-me dialogue. We've been there, we're not doing it again. You know you were there for me just as much as I was there for you."

Erin stared out over the horizon, letting the blue of the sky and the greens of the trees blur into one mass of colour before she refocused again. Imogen had been right, the view was spectacular.

"D'you think she'll be waiting when we get there?" Erin finally asked. "I feel like I'm in my teens and broke curfew, and now I'm worried mom will be sitting up when I get home."

Imogen laughed at the image conjured in her mind - the pair of them sneaking back into the castle, only to Constance Hardbroom waiting in a swiveling chair, spinning to face them with arms crossed and an icy stare.

"I suspect she will strike when we least expect it," Imogen replied. "At the faintest hint of us believing we've somehow escaped, boom. She'll appear out of nowhere, shock the pair of us, and then that will be the end of it."

"Think I lost any chance of her chatting with me about potions?"

"Er, I don't think you ever had that to begin with,".

Erin laughed at the reply, wrapping an arm around Imogen's shoulders. "I suspect it's about time to head back down and start the trek back to face the music. Or at least, trek back down, feed me so I'm not hangry, and then let me face the music," she smirked. "Priorities."


	4. Sometimes at the Edge

**A/N - This is a bit of a stylistic adventure for me. Enjoy?**

* * *

It was nearing sundown as Imogen and Erin finally neared the castle. Erin endeavored to stretch out her increasingly cramping legs. "Running is still a terrible idea," she grumbled, eliciting a laugh from Imogen.

"I swear you've gotten whinier with age," Imogen kidded, drawing a quick but pointed glare from Erin.

"Aren't you the one that's always telling me I need to talk about my feelings more?" Erin rolled her eyes before curling her lip. "Sore, Imogen. I feel sore." she stretched her arms above her head as much as she could within the confines of the truck before resting them behind the headrest, grimacing as she felt the pull in both her shoulders.

Imogen parked the truck outside of the gates, and the pair entered the grounds once more. As they ambled through Walker's Gate and across the courtyard, both observing the absence of one Constance Hardbroom.

"Maybe she didn't notice?" Erin speculated with a shrug. "Or maybe she was pleased with my modifications and is now busy working on the finished product?"

"Sure, go with that, Erin. It seems most plausible. Certainly more so than her waiting inside," Imogen cast a glance at Erin, shaking her head.

As the entered the castle, Imogen's prognostication proved to be most accurate. The pair had barely taken four steps through the hall when Constance appeared in front of them. Erin regarded her carefully, first taking in the long black dress, then the tightly crossed arms, and finally her dark eyes, narrowing as she glared at the two of them. It was the type of stare meant to make one feel small and nervous. It came far too naturally to Erin to meet that stare defiantly, the barest of curl of a smile cresting her upper lip before fading, her face becoming purposely blank.

"You," Constance snapped, pointing a finger directly at Erin.

"Me," she drawled in response.

"And you," Constance's gaze was now fixed on Imogen, who met it awkwardly. Erin quickly interjected.

"It's really just me. I'm pretty sure that's what's on your mind right now relates directly to something that I did," she raised her eyebrows slightly for emphasis. "Solo,"

Constance's sharp glare turned back to the brunette. "Given that you are a guest of Miss Drill's, Miss Evans, it is not just you. Evidently you have not been taught the proper respect of other people's property, and require adequate supervision when presented with it in order to ensure you do not disrupt it."

Erin had tried to prepare for this conversation on the drive back to the castle. She had visualized remaining calm, being contrite. Presented with the real situation, however, she was struggling to retain her composure, particularly as Imogen was saddled with blame for something she had done.

"Imogen is not responsible for my actions, Miss Hardbroom," Erin replied, happy to note that her voice remained completely even. "You have every right to be angry, but direct that anger at the right person," she lifted her chin slightly, ensuring she could look Constance squarely in the eyes. "You can direct your anger at me." the inflection in Erin's voice made it most clear this was a statement, not a question. They stared at each other for several moments, each daring the other to flinch first. It was Imogen who broke the silence, though the thick tension remained.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she announced. While both women had to have heard her, both remained intently focused on staring the other down. She remembered this side of Erin - this protective, intense, side - well. "Erin, you can find your way back to my quarters after, yes?"

"Miss Evans seems to be rather adept at finding her way through the Academy, Miss Drill," Constance interjected. "I'm rather certain she can find her way - perhaps even without deviating from her proper destination, this time." a pointed glare punctuated her words.

"Miss Evans, you can meet me in my office, where we will discuss this further. I trust you remember the way," leaving no room for debate, Constance promptly disappeared. Erin frowned.

"Erin, before you get just a little too fired up, do try to remember that you were in the wrong here," Imogen implored, before turning towards her quarters. "She is the one that is supposed to be angry in this situation; you're the one that's supposed to apologize."

At that, Erin exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders receding with the expelled breath. Imogen was right. It was so easy to get caught up in matching anger with some of her own. As she walked the halls that Constance had correctly assumed she knew well enough to find her destination, Erin practiced letting the somewhat foreign words pass her lips.

* * *

As Erin entered Constance's office, words had already begun to leave her lips, ensuring that she would not lose them. "Look, I'm going to be straight with you here. I'm not good at conflict," Erin thought for a moment about what was really an entirely untrue statement. Really she embraced conflict, but only when she was sure she was in the right. Before Constance could respond, Erin revised her assertion.

"Ok, that's inaccurate. I'm good at conflict; I'm not good at being decidedly in the wrong - which I am in this particular situation. What do you need here? I can do the part where I say I'm sorry, but after that I'm at a bit of a loss." she gave a half shrug. "Do you need to yell it out?"

Constance cocked her head just slightly, appraising both the woman in front of her and her colloquial language. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Why was it suddenly harder to reprimand someone who seemed entirely too prepared for it? It was disarming. Changing tactics slightly, she instead settled for asking the primary question on her mind.

"What, pray tell, was running through your mind when you elected to disrupt my work? Is this a common affliction for you?" Constance punctuated the question with a rather pointed stare.

Erin suspected that answering the second question in the affirmative was not all that tremendous an idea, regardless of that answer's accuracy. "A fairly staggering certainty that I was correct," Erin answered truthfully. "Was I?" she added, in a smaller, yet very curious voice.

"That is hardly the point here!" Constance replied, exasperated.

"No, it isn't," Erin admitted, clasping her hands together before nervously massaging the meat of one palm with the thumb of the other. "But…" how could she phrase this. " I don't know what has been happening to me since I arrived here," her own eyes showed her confusion as the truth left her lips. "I know you thought me intoxicated last night - I wasn't. Something about this place...it's affecting me in a way that I don't understand," she stopped. What she had said was too honest, too vulnerable. She didn't want to continue.

"Look, what I did last night was unacceptable. I apologize, and I understand that you are angry. Your anger is valid, and I appreciate if you need to talk about it," she tried to make a facial expression that would express sincerity. Behind it, she very much hoped this would not devolve into talk of feelings. She struggled enough with her own emotions; someone else's were even less of a strong point for her.

"I can change it back if you would like?" she offered, giving a small shrug along with it.

Constance stared incredulously. "I have already 'changed it back'," she replied, to which Erin frowned slightly. "I…" impressively, Constance also seemed to be grasping for words in places where they typically flowed easily.

"Please do endeavor to control your obvious compulsion to meddle in things you do not understand for the remainder of your stay. You may depart."

Erin felt as though she was getting off rather easily and shouldn't press her luck, but also couldn't help making a final comment as she stood to leave. "I really would love to discuss your work with you sometime. It does seem rather fascinating. Do have a good night."

Left alone at her desk, Constance stood slowly, brushing her hands down her sides to smooth her dress. Turning on her heel, she returned to the blackboard, eyeing her work in progress. Loathe to admit it, she had not been entirely truthful with Imogen's rather maddening guest. With a wave of her hand, the words on the blackboard shifted, first showing Constance's work, then Erin's.

"Insufferable," she muttered to herself, pursing her lips as she regarded the board a final time before turning to leave the room herself, leaving the revised equations that stared back at her.

Something strange was afoot, and Constance was going to figure out exactly what it was.

* * *

Erin stared up through the darkness at the ceiling, adjusting her hair, still damp from her shower, underneath her. She ran her hands through it, as she engaged in her near-nightly ritual of over-analyzing the day's events. Though she would not have admitted it to anyone else, she was still wary of falling asleep after her entirely too vivid dreams of the night prior. While the present day had thankfully been free of the dramatics of the previous one, Erin was not convinced they had been a one-off anomaly. Something unsettling still hung in the back of her mind.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Erin shifted her weight to instead lay on her side, curling her hands up to the edge of her pillow. "It's not like I can just never sleep again," she muttered to herself, muffled further by the sheet she pulled up around her chin. Eyes closing, she faced her trepidation with defiance, settling off to sleep.

It seemed only mere moments later when scenes and snippets began to play themselves out in her head.

* * *

"I don't understand," Aven stared down at her shoes, digging her toe back and forth into the carpet. It was mere hours from when they had lain her mother to rest; they had barely even walked in the door before the conversation had started. Except conversation wasn't even an accurate description - this wasn't an exchange. What was to come next was being dictated to her rather plainly.

"There's a day school not far from here," Aven, though home-schooled, had met some students from there over the years at various competitions and fairs. "Couldn't I go there?" she asked in a small voice.

Her father shook his head and elected to stare out the window instead of at his only daughter. "You need structure. And discipline. Your mother let you get away with far too much. It's time for you to grow up."

"But why?" Aven asked in a small voice. She rubbed her hands together roughly, working up the courage to look at her father. "Can I not learn those things here?" he shook his head and Aven covered hers with her hands before looking up at him once more. "I won't be any trouble to you, I promise. Please don't send me away." it was the closest to pleading her voice would get. Too close; it was met by a penetrating glare by the father she barely saw, barely knew.

"I indulged your mother's desire to teach you herself," the truth was far more complicated, and they both knew it. Neither challenged the statement. "She's...well, she's obviously no longer here to do that," her father's flair for cold, blunt truth left Aven biting down on her lip in an effort to ensure she did not respond.

"It's time for you to get a proper education, from a proper school. You may be a good student, Aven, but you need to learn how a proper witch behaves," there was so much weight behind those final three words. What her father wasn't saying hung heavier than anything he could have said aloud.

There was no use in arguing; Aven knew this was a decision long-since made. It was her mother that had kept her father at bay; who had given her a life with an equal parts witching world and mundane. She had believed so passionately in the power to be gained by understanding both. She had also sheltered Aven from the harsh looks and judgement that now accompanied the family name. Aven had long suspected her father had only humoured her mother's teaching philosophy in order to be free of the guilt that came from having uprooted their family, having moved them across an ocean to escape his own mistakes. Why she had stayed with him at all, now that, that was the real mystery. Her mother had deserved far better.

* * *

She tugged at the school uniform, picking invisible lint from her lapel and feeling very much a fish out of water. Aven appraised the room and fought to keep her face neutral while simultaneously fighting the nerves causing her stomach to turn. The shrill voice of the teacher standing with her at the front of the class crashed through her thoughts.

"Miss Wintersbane, take a seat and endeavor not to embarrass yourself. I have no doubts that the inane choices made with respect to your previous schooling coupled with the character of your lineage will make that quite difficult indeed," Aven gave the barest of nods to the woman who spat her name and ignored both the anger and humiliation that flowed through her at the introduction. She was already an ocean away from home, now immersed in a culture she knew only from the fringes.

Chances at a positive first impression dancing away from her, Aven slid into the first available seat, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the girl beside her as her focused remained at the front of the classroom.

"Yes, Mistress Broomhead."

* * *

Aven stared impassively ahead, her eyes not moving from their chosen spot on the wall. As the whip cracked against her back she didn't flinch; not a muscle moved. It came again, landing almost directly on top of where the last crack had struck. She felt it sting, then burn, but again did not move. She absorbed each blow and showed nothing. Heckitty would get nothing from her. This act of defiance gave her some measure of satisfaction.

"You are a stubborn, stupid girl," Heckitty seethed, cracking the whip once, then twice more. "You are an embarrassment to yourself and to this craft." the whip found purchase on skin again. "Meek, weak - the stench of failure hangs from you,"

Aven heard the words leaving her tutor's mouth but they seemed so distant. In these moments, she went somewhere else. The pain was just an irritating truth, one she endeavored to pay no mind to. Heckitty Broomhead could strike her, beat her, whip her; she could bruise her and make her bleed. It was so routine now, just another part of her daily life at the College. She just had to wait it out, same as every other time.

Heckitty's eyes narrowed as she struck Aven yet once more. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself?"

"I'll do better, Mistress," Aven stated, her voice monotone and carefully even. It was a practiced response, one she had given many times before.

"You say that and yet you never do better! I will not tolerate your lies!" Heckitty dropped the whip, her bony hands instead moving to grip Aven's shoulders, her grip tightening to spin the young witch around to face her. Her hand left her shoulder quickly, rearing back before landing hot across Aven's face.

"Return to your room and finish your studies for the evening. Your project tomorrow had better not disappoint," Heckitty sneered. "Though I am quite certain it will, as per usual. Dismissed."

Aven stared through her tutor, no emotion crossing her face. She was only half listening; it was the same every time anyways. Failure, useless, terrible, good for nothing. Heckitty's words ticked the same boxes each day. Some days it took longer than others for it to end, but it ended all the same. She knew it infuriated Heckitty that she would not break; that she never cried, never begged. In a place where Aven controlled very little, if anything, she felt some measure of satisfaction that Heckitty had not yet taken everything from her.

The word dismissed registered, and Aven turned away, making her way towards Heckitty's office door. "Good evening, Mistress," she called out, facing the doorway as she spoke the words. It wasn't until she was halfway down the hall that Aven increased her pace, creating as much distance as possible between herself and the single worst thing in her life.

* * *

"Mistress Broomhead wants to see you," Aven looked up from her work, dropping her pencil onto the book below. Cynthia Blackswallow stood before her, one hand casually on her hip.

"Thanks for passing on the message," she replied, giving half a smile to the girl in front of her. Aven did her best to never let on that anything was out of sorts. She stood, leaving her books where they were. "D'you think you could throw my books back in my room for me?"

"Oh, she wants to see both of us," Cynthia replied, shrugging. "She said something about a special project." there was a smile playing at Cynthia's lips, which Aven very much wanted to wipe away. "Looks like you've got some competition at the top,"

* * *

"Stop. Please," Aven pleaded softly, pain evident in her voice. Her standard stoicism was slowly melting away, the purposeful mental distance she kept from her tutor forcefully closing with every hit, with every one of Cynthia's cries. Heckitty had discovered that the path to breaking Aven did not lay in punishing her - it came from making her watch as she punished someone else. The feeling of killing two birds with one stone was a blissful one.

Pain had always been such an effective motivational tool, and it brought her such pleasure to watch the wills of her young disciples break. Aven, however, had proven to be one of her most challenging cases. In the beginning, all had gone according to plan. But since then, the infuriating girl had grown distant. She completed what she was asked to, but there was no urgency, no fear, no fire. It simply would not do. Heckitty's methods had never proven ineffective before, and she was not about to let them begin to now, either.

The thin line of a smirk crept onto Heckitty's face at the sound of Aven's voice. She held the whip easily in her right hand, hanging by her waist and ready to strike again. She tapped one long finger from her left against her jawline, appraising the situation before her.

"Are we clear now, what happens when you fail me?" Heckitty inquired harshly. Aven's eyes, cast downwards, closed as she awaited the sound of the whip once again. When it did not come, she looked up once more.

Aven willed the the tears that threatened to fall to stay hidden. Crying would not help either of them. She needed to find what would.

"We are clear, Mistress Broomhead."

* * *

Erin awoke with a start, gasping for breath. Soaked with a cold sweat, she ran her hands over her face. She squeezed her eyes shut forcefully, wincing as more scenes flashed through her mind. The images were quickly followed by a wave of nausea and she doubled over, very much hoping she would not vomit.

As the nausea gave a brief reprieve, Erin opened her eyes and stared down at her hands. She turned them over once, then again, as if seeing them for the first time.

Erin Evans was a creation of Aven Wintersbane.

Whoever she was, she remembered everything. And she remembered exactly why she had made herself forget.


	5. What Makes Us Who We Are

**A/N - Some bits from the past, some bits from the present. A couple answers coupled with a few more questions that still hang unanswered. Hope you like! And if you helped me get this chapter out into the world? Shanks a million and I owe you one...or two. :)**

* * *

The air in the room felt heavy and oppressive as Erin ran her hands over her face. She rested her index fingers on the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily. Another wave of nausea hit her and she doubled over once more. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her focus as years upon years of information slid back into its rightful place within her long term memory. Had it felt like this when she had removed them? That, ironically, was one thing that she could not remember.

The room seemed be shrinking ever further in onto her. Erin squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that when she opened them again, the heavy sense of claustrophobia would be gone too. It wasn't. She needed air. She needed space. She needed her head to stop throbbing so she could actually think this through.

Bare feet hit the floor and she stood, happy to note that her balance did not betray her. For the second time in as many nights, Erin crept out of Imogen's room and down the stone hallways of the castle.

Goosebumps began to dot her bare arms as the cool night air pressed against her. Frowning slightly, Erin rubbed at her forearms before crossing them across her chest. In her haste to get outside, she hadn't bothered to grab long sleeves.

The words began to leave her mouth before she even realized it, the spell moving easily across her lips. When she finally recognized what was happening, Erin froze, the incantation hanging unfinished in the air. It had been slightly over a decade since Erin had forcibly ejected magic from her life. She wasn't even entirely sure if having her memories back meant she had her magic back, too. She ran a finger over her bottom lip, contemplating the situation. The spells had been tied together, mostly, but it was entirely possible that one could have been broken without the other.

Erin frowned. She hoped against all hope that, however unlikely, one had been broken without the other, but she needed to know for sure. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, Erin extended her arm and began the spell once more. Finished, she waited, seconds feeling like hours until fabric began to shimmer into sight. Erin chewed her lip, contemplating the faded grey of the hoodie now hanging from her arm and let the expletives fall freely from her lips.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK." the cold air chilling her bones temporarily forgotten, Erin instead angrily threw her the proof of the restoration of her magical abilities roughly to the ground.

Both spells were broken.

* * *

 ** _"I'm so sorry," Aven choked out, cringing as blood welled in the marks on Cynthia's back. Gravity played its role and sent thin, angry trickles down the length of her back, droplets intermittently finding their way to the stone floor. "I never thought…" Aven paused, grasping for words. "I didn't expect her to try and get leverage in this way," she ran her hands through her hair roughly. "I thought everything would be fine as long as it was just me."_**

 ** _Cynthia choked back sobs, still saying nothing. Her back felt open, raw. Finally, she managed to make her mouth form words. "Is...is it bad?"_**

 ** _Aven frowned. "It's not great, but I've…" she trailed off. "I can treat it." she motioned towards the door. With a wave of her hand, a black t-shirt appeared in her hands and she thrust it towards Cynthia. "Here. Put this on. The...well, the blood won't show through. And it's thin, so it shouldn't hurt too much."_**

 ** _Thankfully, Cynthia did not argue, though she winced audibly as the shirt fell into place. Aven held out a beckoning hand. "Come with me;"_**

 ** _As Cynthia's hand fell into hers, the feeling deep in Aven's stomach told her everything she needed to know about why Heckitty had taken this approach. Shaking her head yet again, Aven tried not to think about soft skin and warmth radiating through her palm as she led Cynthia through dark and empty corridors to the relative safety of her room._**

 ** _"Why have you let her get away with this? Why didn't you tell anyone?"_**

 ** _"Who would believe me?" Aven shook her head. "You know her reputation as well as I do. Besides," she kicked at the ground awkwardly, biting her lip before she spoke. "You make those kind of accusations, and you can kiss a career goodbye. It's like anything else - this too shall pass. Eventually."_**

 ** _"How can you say that?" Cynthia asked incredulously. "How long has this been going on?"_**

 ** _"When the private lessons started." Aven replied awkwardly, not able to meet Cynthia's eyes._**

 ** _"But...but you've had private lessons since sixth year!"_**

 ** _"I know."_**

 ** _"This happens every time she calls you to her office?" the line of questioning made Aven wish she could disappear._**

 ** _"Not...not every time. Only when -" she shook her head. "Only when I disappoint her." Aven's hands dug deep into the front pockets of her school uniform. "I didn't see this coming. But I can fix it."_**

* * *

 ** _Aven regarded the envelope in her hands carefully, fingers tracing her name on the front, a frown already beginning to form. The package was thin, contents evidently sparse. Over the last several weeks, Aven had become all too familiar with letters like these. It didn't take many words to say 'thanks, but no thanks'. Finally with a sigh, Aven tore a corner from the envelope, using her index finger to rip the remainder apart. She pulled out a single sheet and confirmed her suspicions. Another day, another rejection._**

 ** _When the first letter had come, Aven had brushed it off. It would have been unrealistic to expect every institution to want her. But once envelope five, six, ten, had arrived, she began to sense something was amiss. Keeping all mentions of Heckitty Broomhead out of of her applications had been purposeful, although evidently moot. Even with exceptional grades, no one escaped her grasp unless she elected to allow it. And Heckitty was not prepared to allow Aven any reprieve._**

 ** _With a flick of her fingers, the letter went up in flames. She watched the as the paper ignited, heat creeping closer and closer, before finally tossing it unceremoniously to the stone floor. Aven shook her head, crossing her small bedroom in four steps. As she threw herself down on the bed, the palms of both hands cradled her forehead before running angrily through short brown hair that she then tucked behind her ears._**

 ** _It had been eight years. Nearly 3,000 painful, miserable days, and still it wasn't enough. Aven still had not served enough of a sentence to satisfy her. She began to doubt she ever would. When Aven had first arrived, a fish out of water in a school she had never wanted to attend, all she had wanted to do was prove herself. It had been a pressing need, that drive to demonstrate that she was not only competent, but exceptional. To quiet her classmates who whispered about her upbringing and mocked her family name._**

 ** _Aven recalled that first feeling of excitement when Heckitty had noticed her, had chosen her. It brought a very real lump to her throat as she remembered just how quickly her feelings had changed from excitement to dread. Had she expanded her knowledge under Heckitty Broomhead? Undoubtedly. Had it been worth the price she had paid, continued to pay, to do so?_**

 ** _Aven shook her head sadly. "Pride comes before the fall," she murmured, chiding herself. She had wanted to be that prized student above all else. Now, she questioned to what end. She was never going to have a life of her own inside the witching world. Heckitty Broomhead was seeing to that. A life lived executing that horrendous woman's bidding was not one that interested her. If she stayed, there was no way out._**

* * *

 ** _"You need to do something, Aven." Cynthia sat perched upon Aven's bed, arms crossed, a stern look upon her face. With a slight sigh, Aven turned to face her. It was a conversation they had had more times than she wanted to count. Staring up at the ceiling, mentally tracing the many cracks._**

 ** _"We just need to wait it out, Cynthia." Aven frowned, thinking about her latest rejection letter which had arrived earlier that afternoon. "There's only a few weeks left in term. We've made it this far; we just need to see it out until the end. It's like it's always been - a means to an end." Aven chewed at the inside of her lip. It had become increasingly difficult to think of anything as a means to an end when the out she had been waiting for did not seem to be coming._**

 ** _"I'll pull her focus off you, ok?" Aven murmured, moving to sit beside Cynthia on the bed, one hand moving to rest on the other woman's thigh. "I still have a few more tricks up my sleeve when it comes to ideas on how to draw her ire."_**

 ** _Cynthia put her hand overtop of Aven's, brown eyes staring into green. "You shouldn't have to draw her away from me, Aven. None of this should ever have happened. Should have ever KEPT happening." she said pointedly._**

 ** _Aven brought her free hand up to her forehead, running the meat of her palm roughly over one eye. "You know why I've done it. We've talked about this," her eyes went skyward again. "I know you don't agree with me, but if I'd known how to stop it, I would have."_**

 ** _A sickening laugh echoed through the room, the face that haunted both women's nightmares appearing in front of them. It took mere seconds for Aven's hand to quickly pull away as she jumped up and off the back side of the bed, instinctively both separating her and Cynthia and putting distance between herself and her tutor._**

 ** _"What an interesting conversation," Heckitty smirked at Cynthia before turning her attention to Aven. "I must have misheard you." Aven blanched._**

 ** _Heckitty continued, focus back on Cynthia. "Aven has known how to stop this the entire time, haven't you Aven? I would think it's only right that you you tell Miss Blackswallow what you've been keeping from her. It's improper to keep secrets from those we care about," the word care was spoken with such disdain and vitriol, harkening back to eight years of assertions from her tutor that caring was weakness, and weakness was failure._**

 ** _Aven squeezed her eyes shut as she stared straight down, willing this conversation to end. She racked her brain furiously, trying to determine any pathway where she escaped this conversation unscathed._**

 ** _"Miss Wintersbane, to what do we owe the honour of your silence? Certainly you won't pick now to keep that foolish mouth of yours closed. Don't keep Miss Blackswallow in this terrible suspense." Heckitty closed the careful distance between herself and Aven, a hand reaching out to slap her across the face. "Eyes up, girl, get to it. Tell her what you've been hiding," Heckitty smirked darkly. "Tell her the kind of person you truly are."_**

 ** _Aven thought back to the day Heckitty had first offered her the so-called deal. Months had passed, and Aven had consoled Cynthia on more occasions than she would have wanted to count - though truly, one had been bad enough. But it had been right around the time that Cynthia had tipped the scales from unfortunate casualty to...something more. And it had been on that day that Aven had discovered her tutor had known it, too._**

 ** _There were tears threatening to fall; Aven pushed them back. The lump in her throat felt so large it would choke her. "It's not like that…" she rasped. "Cynthia, it's not like she says. It's complicated."_**

 ** _Heckitty's eyes narrowed and, aided by magic, pushed Aven roughly to the floor. "Tell her what I offered you. What I've continued to offer you. Tell her how you could have made all of this end."_**

 ** _Clutching at her stomach, Aven looked from Heckitty to Cynthia and back again. There was no way out of this. Fury in her eyes, she stared at Heckitty as she responded. "My powers for your freedom." she spoke roughly, wishing so very much she could wipe the smirk from Heckitty's face._**

 ** _"Miss Wintersbane, what have I told you about details?" she kicked a foot out which landed soundly at Aven's stomach, eliciting a small grunt. "They. Are. Essential." Each word was punctuated as Heckitty loomed overhead, threatening to strike again._**

 ** _Aven turned towards Cynthia with pleading eyes. "A reference to the school of your choosing - effectively a guarantee that you would be accepted. The price was my powers." Aven took a deep breath in and held it, feeling it expand the knot in her stomach._**

 ** _Cynthia's eyes were cold. She did not blink as she carefully appraised Aven. "You...could have stopped this." It was a statement, not a question. "You could have ended it - all of it. And you didn't. You didn't even tell me."_**

 ** _"It's not that simple. Please, hear me out." Aven stopped. What was there to hear out?_**

 ** _"Oh yes, Miss Blackswallow; please do hear Miss Wintersbane out. I'm sure she has a most excellent explanation as to just how she does care for you and how this decision of hers very much fits that narrative. In fact," Heckitty's lip curled upward smugly before she continued, "I do believe I shall leave you to discuss just that. Aven, my office, tomorrow morning. Bring the spell theory I have requested. Do not be late." Having set chaos upon the pair, Heckitty disappeared._**

 ** _Normally the quick disappearance of Heckitty Broomhead would be cause for at least some measure of celebration and yet on this night, Aven would have almost rather she'd stayed. The physical pain she could inflict would never cut as deep as the emotional cuts that were to come. Cynthia finally spoke._**

 ** _"You couldn't give them up, could you? You picked magic over me." the words were pointed, and Aven couldn't bring herself to respond. Instead, she broke eye contact, eyes cast down._**

 ** _"You said you would do anything to protect me; do you remember that? What a load of shit. You let her do this to you and that should have been bad enough; then you stand by while she did this to me, too. You should have done something. Anything. When this started. Before it involved me. Instead, what you really did is protect yourself. You wanted something from her; bad enough that you would let her hurt you. Bad enough that you would let her hurt me. That's what the truth really is - isn't it? For all of your posturing, for all of your stupid talk, at the end of the day you're just a selfish, mercenary, coward." Cynthia stood, covering the ground between the bed and the door in only four steps._**

 ** _"I look at you and I see her. You think you're different? You're not. You deserve each other. Two shitty peas in a fucking pod." Cynthia reached for the door handle, pulling roughly._**

 ** _"Don't be surprised when you look in the mirror and it's her staring back. I hope it was all worth it."_**

* * *

 ** _Aven sat cross-legged on her bed, staring out into darkness. She wasn't entirely sure how long she had been there like that - possibly minutes, maybe hours - but her thoughts were heavy as she replayed Cynthia's dialogue through on repeat._**

 ** _Finally she stood and found herself drawn over to her mirror in spite of herself. She remained still, assessing the person staring back at her. Her eyes were red, cheeks stained with tears she did not recall spilling. Aven mouthed the word 'coward', watching her reflection's mouth, the way her tongue rested on the back of her front teeth. She mouthed it again, then spoke it softly, as if trying it on for size. Aven hated that it fit. At this moment, she loathed the person staring back at her._**

 ** _Aven saw the blood dripping off her hand before she processed what had happened. Her eyes shifted back up, surveying the now broken mirror, shards of glass littering the floor. Instead of one of herself, Aven took in fragments of herself - an eye here, an ear there. With a final shake of her head, Aven pushed the mirror over entirely, letting it crash to the ground. She would not be a reflection of Heckitty Broomhead, and she was going to prove it once and for all._**

 ** _Grabbing a discarded shirt from the floor, Aven wrapped it carelessly around her hand to stunt the flow of blood. She moved to situate herself at her desk and pushed her class notes to the side, instead pulling out a fresh notebook. She hastily scribbled down her ultimate goal: to see Heckitty Broomhead pay, and began outlining her ideas of just how, exactly, she could make that occur._**

 ** _It was hours and several pages later that Aven looked up. She surveyed the room; calling it hers was something of a misnomer. Nothing was truly hers. Heckitty could and would search it at will, always ensuring Aven had not only no secrets, but no sense of privacy either. As it had been for the last eight years, Aven was hers - body, mind, soul and possessions. She eyed her notes before looking around once again. Aven had been hers. Soon, she would not be. She just needed enough time to execute without her plans being discovered._**

 ** _With a contemplative furrowing of her brow, Aven made her way into her small bathroom. Underneath the sink, she found what she was looking for in the form of a thick metal nail file. This would work. She returned to her room proper, running her hand along each of the old stones in succession. Finally, she found one with the faintest of give against the pressure she applied. This was the one. Taking a seat on the ground, Aven slammed the the pointed edge of the file to the wall, scraping against the the mortar. Tiny shavings fell to the ground and Aven repeated the process again and again and again._**

 ** _Forearms aching from the repeated movement, Aven finally scraped deep enough to loosen the stone. She cast a quick glance to the clock on her wall - it was well after 3am. It was most likely that everyone else in the building was fast asleep. Sleep, however, was not in her plans. Instead she pulled a small flask from her bedside table - her stash of Wide Awake Potion. She brought the mouth of the bottle to her lips, letting the liquid burn down her throat. It was time to get to work._**

 ** _If there was no door, Aven was going to build a window. She would show everyone exactly who she was._**

* * *

Erin toed her discarded hoodie, kicking it towards the castle wall. She followed behind it, using the wall to drop herself down to the ground. Pulling her legs up towards her chest, she simultaneously began lightly tapping the back of her head against the rough stones. It was not an action that helped at all with the headache still pounding through her skull, but keeping the rhythm encouraged her to try to think everything through. Turning her hands over, Erin felt strangely disconnected. They were her hands, each line and crease familiar. She traced a faint scar over the knuckle of her middle finger, now able to remember exactly how she got it.

Was she still Erin if she had Aven's memories? Who was Erin, anyways? Was she Aven now? Both? Neither? She put a hand to her forehead, digging her fingers in roughly. Erin had prided herself on never having run away from anything, and in fact, the very foundation of who she was rested on that very thing. She had always thought herself flawed, but fundamentally good. As she gave thought to everything she had done, suddenly Erin wasn't so sure.

The sound of footsteps broke her concentration and Erin threw her gaze in the direction of the sound. She could make out a tall, thin frame, lantern in her hand and curtain of dark hair framing her face. Erin exhaled heavily as she quickly realized who it was.

"This is really not a good time," she ground out through clenched teeth, hoping that Constance would not come closer.

"Yes, you seem rather busy, sitting outside, in the dark, at three o'clock in the morning," Though Erin couldn't see the smirk on Constance's face as she approached, cutting through the darkness, she could hear it in her response. Normally it would have drawn Erin in, encouraging an impassioned, if not entirely sarcastic, response. Instead how she replied was half-hearted, drawing from Constance's words only hours before.

"To my credit, I am currently both controlling my compulsion to meddle in that which I do not understand, and also respecting other people's property." Erin closed her eyes, pushing her head back to rest against the building once more as she stared up at the sky. She could feel that Constance was now standing directly above her.

"I must admit I am pleased to hear you were listening," Constance trailed off slightly, taking in the sight of the woman in front of her. "But more than a little disconcerted by your penchant for late night marauding."

"Attention to detail has frequently been regarded as one of my most endearing traits," Erin replied half-heartedly. "Insomnia, less so." She let out a laugh in spite of herself at Constance's final comment. "And I would hardly call this marauding. Truancy, maybe, but I would have thought the days of being brought to task for it were long since passed."

The chill of the night air bit strongly, and Constance wrapped her robe tighter to herself. She frowned, noting the short sleeves and accompanying goose pimpled flesh on the younger woman below her. "For someone so attentive to detail, it seems strange you would fail to notice the effects of the cold night air and the clothing you apparently brought to stave it off."

Erin sighed, returning her gaze to the hooded sweatshirt that sat innocently beside her. Begrudgingly, she pulled it over her head and smoothed it down over her body. She kept the hood up, and pulled on the front of it such that it hung down over her forehead and partially covered her eyes.

Constance exhaled loudly. "You are not returning to the castle anytime soon, are you?" Erin answered the question with the smallest shake of her head, moving to rest her elbows on her knees. With a wave of her spellcasting fingers, a faded blue woolen blanket appeared and Constance lay it carefully on the ground beside Erin. With a slight grimace, she first lowered the lantern, then herself primly to the ground. Legs fully outstretched, Constance crossed them at the ankle and sat rigidly upright, back barely making contact with the castle wall behind them.

Erin said nothing, but turned her head towards Constance with a quizzical look.

"I am deputy headmistress, Miss Evans," Constance stated plainly, as if it answered the question Erin had not asked. She pointed her gaze upward, taking in the moonlit sky. The night was clear, and stars dotted the horizon. The pair sat - Erin contemplatively, Constance, patiently - until finally Erin broke the silence.

"What do you think defines a person?" Erin asked, finally pulling her gaze to Constance. "Do you think there are moments in time that are just so foundational, so impactful, that they will always be you, no matter what comes next?"

Constance regarded Erin deliberately. Even with only the soft light of the lantern framing the pair of them, the intensity in Erin's eyes was plain to see. It gave Constance pause, and she considered the question carefully before finally responding.

"Who we are is a complicated web of the circumstances we are presented with, and how we respond to them. By and large, I would say that no, we are not defined in any singular moment. Some moments have a bigger impact than others, yes, that much is true. But we are always learning, always growing. We adapt, and we survive. I would argue we are defined at our end, in the legacy that we leave, not in any one moment along the way." Constance returned her gaze to the stars, pointing up. "It takes thousands of stars to make up the night sky. We are not so different."

Erin considered Constance's answer, tears beginning to trail slowly down her cheeks. She did not bother to wipe them away.

"We can go inside," Erin said softly, lifting herself into a crouch before standing to her full height. She held an arm out, which Constance appraised, and finally took. Pulling gently but firmly, Erin helped the taller woman to her feet, her free hand reaching out to steady her opposite shoulder. Erin's touch was surprisingly gentle, and the pair locked eyes before Erin pulled both hands away. She reached down to collect the blanket and awkwardly thrust it towards Constance as they walked into the castle.

Still lost in thought, Erin climbed the stairs, Constance a step behind her. As they reached the top, Erin stopped. Her mouth opened, then closed again as she found herself unsure what to say. It was Constance, who filled the silence.

"Sleep well, Miss Evans," she murmured softly, turning left where Erin would go right. Without thinking, Erin reached her hand out, fingertips trailing along the sleeve of Constance's nightgown, before quickly she pulled her hand away. Cheeks reddening, she pivoted on her heel and moved quickly down the hall, whispering a thank you she was not certain Constance heard.


End file.
